


Consenting Detective

by TheBigBadWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Bit Of A Domestic, Frottage, Frustration, Johnlock - Freeform, Love, M/M, Sex, Sexy Time, Tenderness, all about the sex, establishment of johnlock, fight, plot?, sweaty sex, tame smut, what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBigBadWolf/pseuds/TheBigBadWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's sex life or rather lack there of is interfering with Sherlock's job. Sherlock will have none of John's shit. </p><p>*Just a bit of tame smut to break my writer's block*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consenting Detective

 

It started when John was shamelessly flirting with a suspect during a case. Sherlock looked over to tell John a few of his theories but only found an empty space beside him. It wasn't wise of Watson to get on Sherlock's bad side.

Case solved and back at the flat Sherlock had to rid himself of the issue causing the inefficiency. 

"John, we must talk." Sherlock picked up his violin and plucked a few notes.

"No. No that is my line. No." John set his mug down on the table next to his chair.

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"You're making that face Sherlock. I hate that face." John was now worried.

"Stop being and idiot John; you know how much I detest it." Picking up his bow he played a few notes in hopes that it would calm John down. "You've been distracted. I needed your input today and instead I found you trying to ' _get off_ ' as you say with our suspect. Our suspect John. That was unacceptable." Every word was like a knive slashing about.

"This is what you wanted to talk about?" John sat back, his fear slowly falling away.

"Yes. I cannot, I will not allow it to continue."

"Allow it?" Fear now replaced with anger. Check. "And who says you are in any position of _allow_ or not _allow_ anything?"

"You sexual frustration has begun to affect our business John." Sherlock lowered the violin and shot the doctor a pointed look. 

"Yes well you seem to wreck every date I go on so what do you expect." John was about to give up and just simply go to bed.

"If you didn't choose indulge yourself in those of lesser intelligence maybe you wouldn't have such a problem." 

"Dammit Sherlock!" John stood from his seat, he was sick of having this conversation. "You ruin, **ruin** , my dates. Invade my privacy and then throw a fit when it _affects_ you. What the bloody hell do you want from me?" Sherlock just looked at him blankly. "Honestly I don't think I can take much more of this. I really can't Sherlock. I do a whole hell of a lot for you. Can't you let me have a bit of something in return?"

"What is it that you would like John?" Sherlock's face was still blank and the more John looked at it the more he wanted to punch it.

"Privacy. Time to myself. I don't fucking know! How about a bit of normalcy?" Breathing heavily John was trying his best not break something, Sherlock does enough of that. He Sherlock have had this conversation time and time again and each time he only got angrier about it. His mind was running circles around itself, he was thinking about all the times he had thrown his own personal life to the side just to accommodate that gangly git. "Sod it. Sod this. I'm done. I'm done Sherlock. I cannot take anymore of this." Before John could move away Sherlock swiftly closed the space between them.

"Please don't." John couldn't even begin to form a single word let alone a coherent thought, before Sherlock's lips were on his. Damn that cupid's bow, it was enough to make anyone insane. Sherlock's hand hovered just over John's hips and his tongue was pushing apart John's lips. When John submitted Sherlock took to exploring his entire mouth. Tasting John. Cataloging John. Listen to every noise John made. It was, however, over long before he really wanted it to be. He felt a strong push against his shoulders.

"What the bloody hell Sherlock?!" John stumbled back did his best not to fall into his chair.

"Please don't leave." Sherlock voice was rough but sincere. 

"I'm not....I'm not going to _leave_ Sherlock. I just want......christ I don’t know anymore." At that John really did fall down into his chair.

"I can..." Sherlock paused. Sherlock never paused. "I can offer a solution." John looked up, he caught the suggestion. He'd have to be a fool not to.

"Sherlock." John pinched his brow, this was a line they had both had silently agreed **not** to cross. Sherlock reached down to gently run a finger along John's jaw line. John jerked back and looked up at this flatmate wide-eyed. "No. Don't. Just don't." John was up on his feet again and Sherlock stumbled back a bit. 

"John." Sherlock's voice was strong and so was the hand that grabbed onto Watson's elbow. "John it is a very rational solution. I wouldn't have propositioned you if I hadn't thought it through." Not giving John a chance to react he pulled the doctor into him and lapped at the spot just beneath John's ear. Sherlock was right, that move alone would be John Watson's undoing. 

Sherlock made his way across John's jaw line taking personal pleasure in the noises he was drawing out from the man. When he nipped at John's throat the quiet breathless moans turned into a low guttural whine. Taking that as an invitation Sherlock began to work open the buttons of John's shirt.

"Wai....Wait." John did his best to force the words out. "Sh'lock." Another gasping breath, Sherlock's mouth was now working on his collarbone. "Shr'lock. Bed." It was the best John could do; the detective was ruining him with his mouth alone. 

When they finally made it to Sherlock's bed John was in nothing but a pair of shockingly red pants and sporting a rather lovely erection. Sherlock himself was stripped down to a pair of purple silk boxer shorts. John grabbed hold of Sherlock's hips and a rather embarrassing noise came from the detective. John in one swift movement lifted him up and threw him down on the bed; John crawled after him and straddled his hips. It was his turn to undo the other with his lips. John wasting no time and ravaged Sherlock's neck, he found every spot and within seconds Sherlock was just as hard as John, if not more. When John had finished with Sherlock's neck he hovered over Sherlock's mouth. 

"John." His name was barely a whisper on the detective's lips. As if reading the doctor's mind he gave his answer. "Yes." John, with his forearms braced on both sides of Sherlock's head, dipped in. He was gentle and caring. He wanted to please Sherlock; he thought for a moment about what he had said. He didn't throw his personal life aside just because Sherlock had asked him; he had done it because in some manner he didn't mind. He didn't have much of a life before Sherlock and he doubted he would have one after, though he **never** thought about 'after'.

Sherlock bucked his hips up pulling John from his thoughts. "Christ!" John nearly bit Sherlock's lip. 

"Stop thinking." Sherlock reached down and grabbed John's throbbing erection; he always got what he wanted. Always. Growling John nearly ripped his red pants off, succeeding he did the same to Sherlock. For a moment the two admired one another. Mimicking Sherlock, John leaned down and gave a sharp thrust with his hips. Sherlock threw his head back and moaned, his hands were digging into the pillows and his knuckles were quickly turning white. John didn't stop and the brilliant detective was falling to pieces. With each thrust John gently bit into another piece of Sherlock. Together they picked up the rhythm, John nearly laughed at the bed making a horrible, cliché, rocking noise but it caught in his throat when Sherlock bucked upwards for the second time.

“Sherlock!” John’s head dipped down onto Sherlock’s shoulder. “Christ! Sherlock!”

“John!” Sherlock was twisting and squirming beneath him. They were both on edge when John, using every ounce of his self control, stopped. “John.” Sherlock growled, he dragged his fingers down John’s back and begged for him to continue. John nearly came at the sound of Sherlock’s voice but held it back. He was serious. John brought his face up and pressed kisses all over Sherlock.

“I…I love you Sherlock.” The detective froze. “Sherlock?” John voice had suddenly gone terribly weak. Seeing, feeling the worry Sherlock shot up and kissed John like he would disappear at any moment. He picked up their pace as if they had never stopped and within seconds they were toppling over the edge together, both breathlessly screaming each other’s names.

Falling back onto the bed they stayed wrapped up in one another basking in the afterglow of sex. John rolled off of Sherlock and onto his back but Sherlock was quick to close the space between them. The detective wrapped his legs around John and his arms went impossibly tight around the doctor’s heaving chest.

“A cuddler?” John tried to ease the tension; he was hoping that in the moment of orgasm Sherlock had forgotten what he had said.

“At least I don’t profess my love just before I come.” Sherlock cringed, that had come out a lot harsher than he meant it.

“Sherlock…I……I” John tried to pry himself from Sherlock but he wouldn’t let go.

“I’m sorry.” Sherlock buried his face in John’s shoulder “Don’t leave.”

“You’re pathetic after sex Sherlock.” Another cringe worthy comment. “Sorry I didn’t……I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re pathetic.” John laughed and Sherlock joined in.

“I do you know. I really do. How could I not?”

“What would become of us if I were to reciprocate those feelings?”

“More mind shattering sex I guess.” It was supposed to be funny but both of them froze for the second time that night.

“John, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have feelings myself.” Sherlock looked up and hovered just above John’s face. All the tension melted away and they kissed. It was slow and passionate and it marked a beginning. It seemed almost foolish that they had danced around this for nearly a year now. Tearing themselves apart they cleaned up and settled back into bed.

“Damn London’s criminal masses. We’re having a lie-in tomorrow. I don’t care if the Queen herself calls us, tomorrow is our day off.” Sherlock thought of protesting but then he was reminded of all the things they _could_ do to stave off boredom.

Fin~

 


End file.
